


He's Like Tomorrow (Oh So Distant)

by LoonyFish



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Books, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, office Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 03:37:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyFish/pseuds/LoonyFish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is a little bit (read: massively) repetitive. He has his daily routines set out and he never questions why he has always been that kind of guy. Then Merlin comes along. He is nothing like Arthur. For one thing he dresses really weirdly, and always seems to be late everywhere, and actually he's rather frustrating. But to his surprise, Arthur finds himself connecting with the idiot who had just fallen face down on the floor in front of him because he was still smiling. And, of course, love is as always helped along by an interfering dog who is pretty smart for the runt of the litter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's Like Tomorrow (Oh So Distant)

**Author's Note:**

> There's probably going to be a longer version of this at some point, probably over the summer, because looking back I feel there is so much more I could have done with it, and I didn't. So, yeah! Look out for that at some point ;)  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> [Thanks for the inspiration Gianluca <3](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vT8O9yNieeY)

He had been working in his father’s office for far too long; he just didn’t know that yet. Arthur was… well, Arthur. None of his friends really questioned the way he always did the same thing every day, Arthur liked that sort of vigorous routine – especially since they knew that he was a Pendragon, and they were born and bred that way. That routine would usually go something like this:

He’d wake up in the morning in his apartment that overlooked the Thames. He’d stretch his arms above his head and yawn like a kitten who was gearing up to face the day. He’d slip his glasses onto the bridge of his nose before padding into the bathroom for a shower, and if it was a Wednesday he would shave too. His dog – a golden Labrador called Henry – would bring him his newspaper which he’d asked to be delivered right to his door. And then, as he waited for his hair to dry, he would sit in his dressing gown – red if it was even numbered day and blue if it was odd – eating one piece of buttered toast, one piece with strawberry jam on, and a final third with orange marmalade whilst reading the paper; Henry sitting happily at his feet to eat up any crumbs he managed to drop. Once his hair was dried, Arthur would pick out that days pair of work trousers – he had to have on per day so that if one got dirty then it didn’t matter – and a shirt, usually crisp white unless he had a meeting when he would wear his red one. His final task of a morning was to put his contact lenses in, his glasses were too heavy on his nose to wear all through the work day.  
The train would arrive at precisely 8:02 every morning, and had never once been late in the whole 5 years Arthur had been working for his father. Most mornings he would get a seat, allowing, of course, for any old ladies to sit down before he did – especially the ones who smiled at him, he liked them more than the grumpy ones.  
He’d arrive at the office at exactly 8:19, a coffee already prepared for him on his desk by whoever was manning the coffee machine that day. He’d switch his computer on and set to work until lunchtime, with as few interruptions as possible in order to get his work done to the best of his abilities.  
At lunch he would go out into Green Park – the office being just on Hyde Park Corner. Every day he’d place £1 into the collection box at the Bomber Command Memorial and think about how much he respected the men for doing something he’d only ever dreamt of doing – fighting for King and Country, not just sitting in an office all day. He’d usually take a book to read as he ate his sandwich – tuna on a Monday and Friday as a treat, or ham and cheese if it was any other day of the week. The book could be anything from a crime thriller, to a historical romance, he really didn’t care what he was reading as long as he could escape for an hour.  
2 o’clock and it would be time to return to the office to carry on his work until 6 when he would return to his flat via the 6:04 train.  
He’d make himself dinner using only the finest meat and vegetables – which he had bought during his weekly shop the previous Saturday afternoon at 2 o’clock – as well as feeding Henry and filling up the water bowl. After slipping his apron onto the door and tidying away all the mess, the food would be ready and he’d sit down and eat.  
To finish the day, he’d take Henry for a long walk around St. James’ Park, read for an hour, then turn in for the night at 9 o’clock on the dot ready for the whole routine to start again the next morning – obviously though, that routine changed at the weekends, with Saturday and Sunday both having their specific to do lists.

And he liked it that way. He didn’t care that he had less of a social life than his father, that one of his only friends was his dog, and he still loved playing football with his few mates  left over from a year spent at university at the weekend even if he usually avoided the pub afterwards because it made him too tired and it mucked up his routine. Honestly, he didn’t mind. It was the way he had chosen to live his life. Morgana often told him he needed to find a lover, she’d even once suggested he hired a prostitute, but she’d given all that up when he’d nearly choked on his tea – PG Tips all the way – at the very suggestion.

It was March 23rd, a Tuesday like every other. The day had passed in its perfect manner like the days always do in Arthur Pendragon’s life. His dinner had been lovely as usual, Henry had been fed and watered and seemed eager to go out for his walk – more eager than normal, but Arthur would never admit he watched his dog quite _that_ closely. Arthur always made sure he got changed into his casual wear for his even walks around the park – and by causal he actually meant chinos and a polo shirt, probably not quite as casual as he could have been, but then again he did live in the middle of London and considered himself to be a ‘respected’ member of society.

The air outside was warm despite it still being only spring. The leaves were beginning to regrow on the trees, and a few of them were starting to blossom too. Spring was Arthur’s favourite season after autumn. It was a nice middle ground between the excessive heat of summer and the freezing-your-nuts-off of winter; he just didn’t find it as beautiful as autumn which was all golden leaves, pumpkin soup and other warm scrumptious delights.

The door clicked shut behind him and he made his way downstairs. It wasn’t a long walk to the park, which was a good thing – it meant they could have a much longer stroll round the park itself. Henry always loved his walks. He’d bound along ahead of Arthur, darting in and out of bushes, saying hello to other dogs, but always coming back to Arthur every now and then to check that he was okay, he really did love his master in his own special way.

Arthur usually kept to himself during these walks. Occasionally, if it was very good, he would bring the book he was currently reading along with him and sit on a bench to enjoy the calmness of the world around him whilst becoming enraptured in the story and the heroes of the book.

On this particular day he had decided to bring his book along. _The Flight_ by M.R. Hall was turning out to be ten times better than expected – he always ignored the reviews and would make his own judgement before a book started as to whether it was going to live up to his standards, believing that book reviews were usually written by pompous idiots. He’d been taken in by the drama of the plane crash and the charismatic charm of Coroner Jenny Cooper, and he just wanted to find out how it ended as soon as possible.

So with that in mind, he made his way to the bench he always picked to read on. It was tucked next to a big old oak tree, and people didn’t normally use it because of its spot in the shade. Arthur, however, loved it. The little area was mystical and slightly romantic, edgy because you couldn’t see what was around the next corner – he liked that, he didn’t get that kind of thrill anywhere else.

Letting Henry off the lead was always a pleasure to watch. He was a big dog, nearing fully grown, but he still possessed the same erratic excitement he had as a puppy. He would still chase after squirrels and birds and other dogs and sometimes the odd person – though Arthur always told him off for that because it got _him_ into trouble too, not just Henry – with more energy than any other dog would ever  possess.

Arthur settled back on the cold wood. He’d wrapped a scarf around his neck because he knew it would feel colder if he was just sitting reading his book, and had found a leather jacket Morgana had bought him the year before and pulled that on too – it didn’t fit his normal style but he hadn’t got round to finding himself a more suitable garment since summer should be just round the corner.

Everything was going smoothly too. He’d been reading, alone and undisturbed for nearly three-quarters of an hour when a man face planted the floor in front of him. A soft grunt came from the man as he hit the ground, and Arthur’s eyes snapped up to observe the commotion. It took him a moment to realise that he was probably meant to help the lunatic – he usually stayed away from any kind of interaction from strangers. Said man was wearing bright blue jeans the colour of the sky on a summer’s afternoon, a bright red t-shirt with a yellow waist-coat over the top. None of it matched, only making Arthur even more reluctant.

“Are you alright?” he asked uncertainly. “Do you want a hand up?”

The man rolled over onto his back, letting out a long and pitiful sigh. Arthur waited, not getting up, not moving, just waiting for a reply.

“It’s not actually that bad down here,” the man said after a moment, twisting his head till his impossibly blue eyes were staring at Arthur, a huge grin on his face “Sometimes my misfortunes lead me to some wonderful places.”

“You do this often then?” Arthur replied, slightly confused. He never made mistakes like that, he’d never make himself look like a fool in front of anyone, let alone a stranger “And aren’t you cold?”

At that the man frowned, looking at Arthur as if he was completely stupid.

“I try not to but these things just end up happening to me; mum says it’s because I don’t focus on anything which isn’t true at all. Why would I be cold?”

Arthur laughed. The man was funny, it seemed, and had a personality to match his clothes.

“It’s just it’s cold out here an you’re only in a waist-coat.”

“You ever worn a waist-coat before? They’re the warmest things you can ever wear.” the man said with another grin.

“Not in my experience… look do you want a hand up...?”

“Merlin” he supplied.

“Would you like a hand up, Merlin?” Arthur said, trying desperately to hide the mixture of amusement, annoyance and bafflement that was trying to escape through his voice.

“That’s alright thanks.” Merlin said, pulling himself into a seated position then up into standing “I need to dash anyway” and with that he pulled his bag onto his shoulder and ran off into the twilight.

Left sitting bewildered on the bench, Arthur shook his head wearily. The guy was obviously a nutter, though a rather nice looking one, who didn’t seem to have too bad a personality really if you looked past the weird dress sense and the whole falling over thing.  Glancing down at where Merlin had fallen, Arthur noticed a book had fallen out of the man’s bag. He bent down to pick it up, his curiosity getting the better of him. _The Flight_ by M.R. Hall was what he picked up.

“Wha…?” Arthur started before jumping of the bench, something weird tingling in his stomach. “Henry!” he cried “Come here boy!” before following in the direction Merlin had run off in.

Henry caught up with him after around 30 seconds, obviously enjoying this new side to his master; they had never run together before.

Merlin had been heading towards the North Gate, strange when you realised the nearest gate was the South Gate but Arthur kept running, he’d already decided the man was a bit weird anyway so he might as well add to the weirdness.

Despite Henry’s ideas that Arthur didn’t run, it wasn’t actually true, he just never took Henry along with him. Every Sunday morning his daily routine would start with a run three times round the park – he found it calmed him and prepared him for the working week.

This run through the park was mad, but it felt so _right_. Nothing Arthur had ever done had felt like this before – escapades like this normally made him nervous not excited. Usually he would chide himself for being stupid and irrational because what on Earth was he doing? Chasing a stranger through a park to give his book back? It was mad, it was mental, and for the first time in his life Arthur simply didn’t care.

As the park opened out into a wider area, the trees giving way to a vast expanse of grass, Arthur could see Merlin still running in the distance.

“Merlin!” he shouted, trying to be heard so he would slow down and let Arthur catch up with him. Merlin didn’t hear, but Henry seemed to get the idea of what his master was trying to achieve so he ran on ahead, chasing the weird brightly coloured human whom Arthur seemed so desperate to catch. Arthur rolled his eyes as Henry ran off, barking into the distance like the mad thing he was. Arthur did love Henry but sometimes he questioned why he had picked the runt of the litter.

At the sound of the dogs bark, Merlin span around, his eyes wide with panic. Even from a distance Arthur could see his discomfort and immediately called out,

“Henry! Come back here, you daft dog!” then smiled at Merlin whose face looked very relieved that the lunatic dog was now back under control.

“Are you following me?” Merlin said sceptically as Arthur approached him.

“I was…” Arthur panted in response, holding up a finger to ask for a moment to catch his breath and bending down to rest his hands on his thighs – he noticed how hard Merlin had to try to supress a smirk at that which was just plain annoying , “You dropped your book” he finished simply.

“Oh.” Was all Merlin would respond with for a moment, taking it out of Arthur’s hand and stuffing it back into his bag, “Er… thanks?”

And then Arthur decided to do something reckless, something he had never even dreamed of doing before. Because this guy was new, and fresh, and exciting, and possibly just a little bit wonderful to still be talking to Arthur – most people usually walked away pretty quickly when they discovered he was a boring dunce.

“Would you like to join me for a drink?” he asked sheepishly, tickling Henry’s ear absent-mindedly as he waited for a response.

“I’d love to…” Merlin said “But my friend Gwen has arranged some stuff for tonight which I’m not allowed to miss… again…” he added under his breath, then said “But I’m up for any other day you like!”

Arthur was taken aback by Merlin’s eagerness, and he stood there smiling like an idiot until he felt Henry’s tail whack the back of his leg and he shook his head to stop himself staring.

“Er… tomorrow night?”

“Sounds great! Do you know the Albion; it’s just down the road from here?”

“I do indeed. See you there around 8 o’clock?”

“It’s a date,” Merlin said cheekily before turning and running again, calling back over his shoulder “Sorry, Arthur! I really do need to run!”

"Wait!" Arthur cried startled, before blushing as Merlin span around - it should have given him whiplash, maybe the man was just immune, "How on Earth did you know my name!?"

"It's sewn onto your socks, Mr Pendragon," he said cheekily, "I fell over at your feet didn't I? Well, maybe next time you should remeber to tuck the labels in!" and with one final grin he turned and ran. 

Arthur was left with his mouth hanging open in shock as Merlin flew round the corner in a whirlwind of colour.

The next day couldn’t go fast enough. He actually whistled while he worked, something no Pendragon ever did, let alone Arthur, and generally made a nuisance of himself just by being too happy.

He left on the dot at 6 o’clock, not even bothering to wait for anyone to remind him of the time, he’d been staring at the clock all day. He put on his nicest casual wear and headed to the pub, arriving at 7:55 just to make sure he wasn’t late.

Merlin, however, decided not to arrive till 8:30, barging into the pub shouting,

“I’m so sorry, Arthur! There was a customer at the bookstore, and she was too nice to force her out the door, so I made her tea, then she wanted a chat and then oh gosh I am so sorry! I honestly don’t try to be this useless, I just can’t…”

But he was cut off by the press of Arthur’s lips on his own – the second reckless act in two days, Morgana would be proud.

When Arthur pulled away again they were both grinning at each other with too much glee to be healthy for grown men, but neither or them really minded, whatever was happening between them felt already like fireworks.

“I think, Merlin, you will forever be a mystery to me. However, you are a mystery I would like to solve”

Merlin just grinned in response before saying, “Shall I grab some drinks?”

The date went brilliantly, especially when they discovered their common interest – books – and Arthur could but help his childish squeal when he realised Merlin said bookshop, as in ‘I work in a bookshop and could probably get you some cheap books’. Yes, they had their differences alright, which scared Arthur slightly, but made Merlin just laugh at some of the things that came out of Arthur’s mouth because they were just so ridiculous to him.

Arthur began to learn that actually you needed to set the time of arrival for about half an hour earlier than necessary, then Merlin was usually on time. Merlin learnt that trying to completely change Arthur’s routine all in one go he has a minor (read: very major) freak out – he didn’t speak to Merlin for three days when Merlin tried to stop him going for his Sunday morning run.

Then there was Henry. Not used to being seconded to anyone,  he decided he would scowl at Merlin for a few weeks, just so the human knew where he stood. It took Merlin ages to realise that Henry was just as grumpy as Arthur, like they’d rubbed off on each other, and that actually Henry was alright – and one of the few dogs in history who knew when the bedroom was off limits. After the first night of uninterrupted sex, Merlin had actually kissed Henry, and they’d got on like a house on fire from then on.

For proprieties sake, they stuck to kissing on the first, second and third date; having sex for the first time after their fourth – Arthur liked to keep to that, it stopped things being as messy if things didn’t work out brilliantly, and sometimes routines stuck too deep to change for anyone.

 All the people who knew Arthur thought the whole thing couldn’t last. They were too different, Merlin and Arthur, like chalk and cheese, day and night, light and dark. There was Merlin, who was too messy, a big personality who entwined himself around everyone till they couldn’t remember life without him. Then there was Arthur, too simple minded, too thorough and repetitive, who could sink into a crowd, unnoticed far too easily. Though that’s  _exactly_  why they liked each other so much. Of course, no one would ever understand; but they always did bring out the best in each other.

Then one night nearly 12 months since Merlin had fallen over by Arthur in the park, as they lay in bed together, the curtains open because Merlin liked to see the city as they drifted off to sleep Arthur said,

“Remember when we first met, and I said I wanted to solve the mystery that is you?”

“Hmm” Merlin mumbled sleepily.

“I think I’ve figured it out.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You’re like tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Always a day away, and always unpredictable. At least, that’s what my tomorrows are now you are in my life. Unpredictable and full of you. And I wouldn’t have it any other way”


End file.
